Home Before Dark - Part Four
by Debbie Nockels
COPYRIGHT: October 2001
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from BTVS or ANGEL. They're owned by Joss Whedon (who needs to treat them nicer), MutantEnemy, Kuzui, Sandollar, David Greenwalt, the WB, UPN, Fox, etc.
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������ A short time later Angel pulled up in front of a large - a very large - building. When he got out Buffy did too, wondering why they were stopping there. "What is this place?" she asked, admiring the grand structure. "Oh, is this where those sisters live, the ones that cast the spell? I thought you were going to wait a few days before going to see them."
������ Angel smiled. "No, this is where I live." Chuckling out loud at her surprise, he led her to the huge glass doors and flung them open with a flourish. "Welcome to the Hyperion Hotel - and Angel Investigations."
������ Buffy walked inside, amused at his extravagant manner. She stopped, gazing around the huge lobby. "Wow. This is - incredible. You really live here?"
������ "He really does." Cordellia detached herself from the group standing at the long marble counter and came toward them. "Hi, Buffy."
������ "Cordelia?" Buffy's jaw dropped. She hardly recognized the tall young woman standing before her. It wasn't just the added maturity in her face and manner, it was - "Your hair! When did you cut it?"
������ Cordelia smiled. "Last spring. You like?" She turned her head from side to side for Buffy to inspect.
������ "I - I don't really know," Buffy said honestly. "I wasn't expecting it. You look so, uh, different with it short." Older, she'd been going to say but fortunately caught the word back in time, since it was doubtful Cordelia would appreciate it. "It makes you look more serious," she added. "More . . . I don't know . . . grown up, I guess." Oops, maybe that wasn't the best word to use, either.
������ "Not like a cheerleader, you mean?" To Buffy's relief, Cordy chuckled. "Hey, that's fine by me. At least you noticed it was different right away - my hair, I mean - unlike some others I could name." She cast a scathing glance at the men, who looked sheepish.
������ Gunn nodded at Buffy. "Hi. We weren't actually introduced before. You're Buffy, the Slayer, and I'm Gunn."
������ Buffy smiled. "I know. Nice to meet you." Gunn's stare was making her uncomfortable; it held both wariness and intense curiosity, and she knew that the others must have told him about her resurrection. She looked away. Fred gave her a shy little wave and smile, and she nodded and smiled in return.
������ Wesley came toward her. "Buffy, thank you for your help tonight. I know I said this earlier, but I can't tell you how good it is to see you again." Without waiting for Buffy to respond he continued, "How are you? I mean, how are you coping with . . . well, with everything? It must have been quite traumatic, being brought back to life." Behind his glasses his gaze was searching, which reminded Buffy that, like Giles, he too was a Watcher - or had been - and he too understood how powerful and dangerous the magics used to resurrect her must have been.
������ "I'm dealing," was all she said, a familiar sensation creeping over her. She'd experienced it often since her return, a feeling not only of fatigue but also of detachment, as if she were watching a television show (one that she wasn't really interested in, at that), rather than actually being involved in whatever events were taking place. It was a disquieting feeling, and Buffy hoped it would soon vanish. Maybe she just needed to get more rest; she still had trouble sleeping through the night.
������ Angel looked at her quickly, seemed to sense something. Giving Wesley a warning glance, he took her hand. "You're tired, and no wonder. Let me show you to your room." He paused. "I'm sorry, I should have asked you if you wanted anything to eat."
������ Buffy shook her head. "No, thanks. I'm not hungry."
������ One of Angel's eyebrows twitched upward slightly, just enough to let her know that he didn't believe her. "Are you sure? Dinner was a long time ago." Before she could reply -
������ "I don't know about anyone else, but my stomach is trying to change places with my backbone," Cordy declared. "I'm going to nuke some Orville Redenbacher and if anyone wants to share, you're welcome to it. Some of it." Flashing a quick grin, she went into a small room at one side. A moment later Buffy heard the rustling sound of cellophane being torn and then a musical beep, followed by the low hum of a microwave in action. Before long the delicious aroma of buttery popcorn drifted out into the lobby.
������ Wesley cleared his throat. "Ah, I think I'll give Cordelia a hand with that." Gunn casually straightened up. "I'll help you." The two men disappeared into the same room Cordy had gone into.
������ "You go on up to your room, Buffy," Fred said, a quick, nervous smile flitting across her face. "I'll bring you up a bowl in a few minutes, if, if that's okay with you. You do look tired," she added solicitously.
������ "I am tired." Buffy smiled. "Just a small bowl, then. Thank you, Fred."
������ "It's no trouble - I mean, I'm happy to do it." Even as she was speaking the young woman started backing toward the popcorn room, as Buffy was beginning to think of it.
������ "Come on, I'll take you to your room." Still holding her hand, Angel led her up the grand, curving staircase and down a long hallway with elegant but faded wallpaper and an equally faded rug, finally opening the door to a room almost at the end of the corridor. "Is this okay?" he asked, switching on the light.
������ Buffy stepped inside. The room was somewhat larger than most hotel rooms she'd seen - not that she'd been in that many - and, like the corridor outside, the wallpaper and drapes looked rather old and faded. The bed was full-sized, in a frame of light-colored wood that matched the few pieces of furniture. A brass lamp sat on a table in the corner and a large picture hung on one wall; a landscape of some kind, she thought vaguely. A door to one side opened into what she assumed was a bathroom.
������ "It's fine." She was still having a hard time connecting with the real world, and it was an effort to make the words sound as if she meant them.
������ Angel looked anxious. "You're sure? I know it isn't anything fancy - we don't have the money to fix things up right - but the bed should be comfortable. " He went over and pressed down on the bare mattress, presumably to demonstrate how comfortable it was. "Well, as soon as I get some sheets on it, it will be. Sorry; we don't usually have overnight guests. Just a minute."
������ He was out the door before she could say anything, reappearing a minute later burdened with neatly folded sheets and a cheerful blue and white comforter. He dumped them on the seat of a chair. "Here we are. Just give me a minute to get the bed made."
������ Buffy forced herself to walk over to help, and together they made the bed. Something in the simple, homely act of smoothing sheets and tucking corners proved so soothing that by the time they were finished she was beginning to feel almost normal again. Angel insisted on getting her another pillow, though she tried to tell him that one was enough. "There!" He gave the pillows one more plumping and stepped back, surveying the neat bed. "Nothing fancy, as I said, but I think you'll sleep well."
������ "Angel, it's fine," Buffy said gently. "It's more than fine. You don't need to fuss about me."
������ His smile was rueful. "I know. I just . . . wish I could offer you the best. Silk and lace instead of cotton."
������ Buffy smiled too. "Not necessary tonight. I'm so wiped I could probably sleep on the floor, the way you did in my bedroom that time we fought the Three."
������ "You remember that?" He seemed surprised.
������ "Of course." She wondered how he could think otherwise. "How could I forget? The next night we kissed for the first time."
������ "And I vamped out," Angel said, rather sadly. "I scared you."
������ Buffy went over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Only because I wasn't expecting it, Angel. What I remember most is the kiss, not the vamp-face."
������ "I remember it too," Angel murmured softly, tilting her chin up. His mouth descended on hers and Buffy lost herself in their kiss. His lips were cool and soft, his embrace tender, and Buffy felt grounded in reality once again.
������ "Ah! Found you!" They looked up to see Fred rocking to a halt in the open doorway, a small green bowl clutched in both hands, a triumphant grin fading from her lips. Her eyes widened. "I - God, I'm so sorry," she stammered. "I - I didn't mean to interrupt, really! I was just bringing the popcorn like I said I would. See?" She held out the bowl for their inspection, looking anxiously from one to the other.
������ Angel walked over and took it from her. "It's all right, Fred; we don't mind. Thank you." He turned to hand the bowl to Buffy, flashing her a look she had no trouble reading. He wanted her help in reassuring the fragile young woman.
������ "Thanks for bringing the popcorn all the way up here." Buffy smiled and said jokingly, "I'm not used to people waiting on me like this."
������ Fred visibly relaxed. "It really was no trouble. I mean, my room is just down the hall so it's on the way." She gestured vaguely to her left. "Well, kind of, anyway; it's on the other side of the stairs. Well . . . I guess I'll say goodnight to you then, Buffy. Sleep tight and don't let the bedbugs bite!" She looked sheepish. "Um, that's what my mama always used to say to me when I was little, but it's kind of silly, I guess, because there's no bedbugs here, are there? Not that we had them in our house either, I don't mean that, it's . . . it's just an old saying, I guess." Her hands began twisting nervously together.
������ Buffy nodded, pretending not to notice the other woman's agitation. "My mom used to sing �Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star' to me every night when I was a little girl. Then she'd kiss me on the forehead and say, �Sweet dreams, Buffy. I'll see you in the morning.' "
������ Fred smiled back. "That's nice. I like that. Sounds like you have a great mom too."
������ A pang went through Buffy and she felt her smile slipping a little. "Yeah."
������ "Well, goodnight again." With an awkward little wave of one hand, Fred left.
������ "I'm sorry," Angel said to Buffy, softly. "I guess we never told her about your mother."
������ "It's okay." Not wanting to talk about it anymore, Buffy looked down at the popcorn and took a handful of the fluffy kernels. It did taste good, but after a couple of bites she set the bowl on a nearby nightstand. "Will Cordy be upset if I don't eat it all? �Cause I'm really not hungry."
������ "She'll be fine. Don't eat it if you don't want to." Angel looked at her hesitantly, as if wanting to say more, and Buffy knew what was coming. She braced herself. "Are you too tired to talk right now?" he asked her. "Because if you are it can wait until morning."
������ "No, let's do it now. I hate things hanging over my head. Besides, who knows if there'll even be a tomorrow?" She managed a light tone, went over and sat down on the bed. Angel followed, settling beside her, though not too closely.
������ "True." He sat a moment in silence, figuring out how to begin. He knew that what he was about to say would hurt Buffy, and there was no way to soften the blow. In fact, trying to soften the facts might make it seem as if he were evading responsibility for his actions. "You know about the dark time I went through last year and how I finally had an epiphany - but I didn't tell you how it came about. Not the dark time, the epiphany."
������ Buffy blinked in surprise. This wasn't what she'd expected to hear. Rearranging her thoughts, she said, "Uh, no, you didn't." She waited expectantly, then when he said nothing, prompted, "So you want to tell me now?"
������ Angel said grimly, "Want to tell you? No. But . . . I have to."
������ His tone sent a shiver of unease down her back. "Why do you have to? Why is it so important that I know?"
������ Angel's face was tight, closed in. "Because you deserve to know exactly what I turned into then, how low I sank. You need to know what I did, and I don't want you to hear about it from . . . from anyone else."
������ Buffy's heart skipped a beat. "Was it worse than locking the Wolfram & Hart people in the wine cellar?" she asked, keeping her voice even with an effort. He'd told her about that only a couple of days before, and she'd tried not to show how much it had disturbed her to hear that Angel, with his soul intact, had been capable of such a cold-blooded, ruthless action. It was terrifyingly reminiscent of the things he'd done during the months when he'd lost his soul . . . after her seventeenth birthday . . . after they'd made love and her world fell apart.
������ Angel glanced at her and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, in a grim smile with absolutely no humor in it. "I didn't kill any more people, if that's what you mean."
������ With a mental sigh of relief Buffy put her hand over his where it lay on his thigh. "Tell me," she said softly.
������ Angel shut his eyes. Taking a breath, he opened them and looked straight at her. "I had sex with Darla," he said starkly.
������ At first she didn't react, solely from sheer disbelief. Angel had slept with the resurrected Darla? He'd had sex with his Sire, the same vampire he'd once killed in order to save her, Buffy's, life? This time, instead of staking Darla he'd slept with her, and it had turned his life around? Instinctively she lifted her hand from Angel's.
������ "Having sex with Darla gave you an epiphany?" she asked numbly. He nodded and then the pain began. It filled her chest, making it hurt to breathe. She didn't know if she'd be able to bear the answer, but she had to know. "How?" Her voice was barely audible. A sharper pain shot through her hands; looking down she realized they were clenched so hard that her fingernails had cut into her palms. Forcing them open, she clasped her hands together instead.
������ "I'd reached rock bottom," Angel said tersely, staring in front of him. "I'd just learned - or thought I had learned - that all the good I'd tried to do, all the people I'd helped since leaving Sunnydale, didn't matter, that all of it was worth nothing because no matter how many good things people do, evil will always triumph in the end - because it's everywhere, in every person, every soul.
������ "I came home and Darla was in my room. I was numb. I wanted to feel something - anything - besides the freezing emptiness of my hollow existence. So . . . " His voice trailed away.
������ "I see." Buffy got up and wandered aimlessly around the room. "That must have been some . . . session . . . you two had." Angel's gaze shot from the carpet to her face. "Well, you did tell me that Darla used to be a prostitute, way back when. I guess some skills stay with you no matter how many centuries have passed."
������ Angel looked at her closely. "Are you thinking that I enjoyed it?" He shook his head. "I didn't. Buffy, that night wasn't about enjoyment or even about sex, it was about losing myself . . . forgetting. Afterward, I woke up in pain. Darla thought I was losing my soul again." He gave a short, contemptuous laugh. "She'd actually believed she could give me a moment of perfect happiness."
������ Buffy stopped her rambling and stood very still, her arms folded in front of her. "You mean she didn't?"
������ This time it was Angel who reached out. Standing up he went over to her. His hand settled gently on her shoulder. "There is no way I could ever lose my soul with Darla, Buffy. I don't love her; I never have. The only woman I've ever loved is you. After what I've just told you, I wouldn't blame you if you never trust me again, but that's one thing you must believe. It's the one shining truth of my life: I love you. I will always love you."
������ His dark eyes shone with earnestness, and Buffy believed him. Mechanically she nodded, but she was too much in shock from what he'd told her, her mind blank, and she simply couldn't think of anything to say. A moment passed in silence. Angel's face fell; slowly he withdrew his hand. "I guess you want to be alone now." He dropped his hand. "If you need anything, my room is the corner one at the end of this corridor." When she still didn't say anything, his face grew even bleaker. He turned to leave.
������ "Angel!"
������ Angel slowly faced her, his expression hovering somewhere between hope and fear. She still had no clue what to say; she only knew that she couldn't let him leave like this, believing she didn't want to be around him.
������ "I love you too." The words came without her conscious volition, but once uttered she knew their rightness. Of course she loved Angel; she always had, and nothing could change that; not his turning into Angelus four years ago; not his leaving a year later because he was convinced it was better for her; not even this. Knowing he'd had sex with Darla hurt, God yes, it hurt, but it hadn't altered the way she felt about him. It was important he know that right now.
������ Angel's tight expression relaxed a trifle. "Thank you." Then he left, shutting the door behind him, and Buffy was alone with her thoughts. After a moment she stood up and went into the bathroom, intending to take a long, hot shower (maybe it would clear her head), but discovered there were no towels. She sighed and thought about going in search of one, but she really didn't feel like wandering around the hotel. Then she thought of asking Angel, but instantly dismissed the idea. She needed a little more time before she was ready to see him again; time in which to figure out where they went from here. Earlier that night she'd been determined they would have some kind of relationship, even if it was a long distance one. Now - although she knew beyond doubt that she still loved Angel, his revelation about Darla had stunned her, left her confused. She needed to think things through.
������ There was a knock at the bedroom door. "Buffy?" The voice sounded familiar.
������ Buffy opened it. As she'd thought, it was Cordelia, loaded down with various items. The former cheerleader smiled apologetically. "Sorry to disturb you, but I thought Angel might have forgotten a few things for your comfort - like soap and towels and shampoo. And something to sleep in. I keep a couple of nightgowns here, just in case."
������ Buffy smiled and moved aside so she could enter. "You were right about the towels, at least. I hadn't checked for soap."
������ "I see he found you some sheets," Cordy remarked, glancing at the bed. "Oh, and pillows, that's good." She nodded down at the load in her arms, and Buffy lifted off the top item - a light blue nightgown that looked and felt like silk. Maybe it was.
������ Buffy felt obliged to defend Angel. "I'm sure he would have remembered about the towels, but we started . . . talking . . . and he just forgot." She laid the nightgown out on top of the bed and followed Cordy into the bathroom.
������ "Mmm-hmm." Cordelia set her burden down on the vanity top. Pulling out a set of towels, she began draping them over the brass bars set in the walls for that purpose. For lack of anything better to do Buffy checked the shower. Pulling her head out again she said to Cordy, "You were right; no soap."
������ Cordelia was already opening a box of Dove. She handed the pristine white bar to Buffy, tossing the empty box in the tiny wastebasket next to the toilet. "So, should I read anything into the fact that Angel noticed there were no sheets on the bed, but not that you didn't have any soap or towels?"
������ She sounded rather tense. Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Only that the bed is bigger and more noticeable." She set the soap in the little niche in the shower wall, along with the shampoo and conditioner Cordy held out next.
������ "Mmm-hmm." It was the same noncommital sound Cordelia had made before, this time accompanied by an enigmatic glance at her.
Buffy folded her arms and faced her. "Cordy, why don't you just come out with whatever it is you're wanting to say, instead of making with the cryptic noises?"
������ Cordelia fiddled a while longer with the towels, making sure the ends were hanging evenly. Finally she looked up. "We went through a really bad time last year with Angel."
������ "I know; he told me."
������ One dark, elegant eyebrow rose slightly. "He did? Did he also tell you that he locked a bunch of people in a basement with Darla and Drusilla - deliberately - knowing they'd be slaughtered, which they were?"
������ "Yes."
������ "And that he fired us all?"
������ "He told me." It was obvious that Cordelia still felt bitter about that - or maybe, Buffy amended, "bitter" wasn't the word. "Hurt" seemed to be more appropriate, given her tone of voice and the look on her face. "So what's your point, Cordy?" she asked patiently.
������ Cordy rubbed her arms. "My point is that things were just getting back to normal, with us being able to trust him again; then we learned about your death and Angel became all Mr. I-Want-To-Be-Alone-To-Mourn-In-the-Dark guy."
������ She held up a hand to forestall Buffy's quick response. "Which I don't blame him for. No one did; we all understood how devastated he was. He buried himself in a Sri Lankan monastary for three months and when he finally came home, even though it was obvious he was still grieving, he was more like the old Angel again. He'd even thought to bring gifts for all of us. And then - you called, and he went racing off to Sunnydale without a second thought."
������ "And?" prompted Buffy, still trying to figure out where Cordelia's real concern lay. Was she worried about Angel or only about how his emotional state might affect them all?
������ Taking a deep breath, Cordelia said, "And it's obvious, just from the couple of telephone conversations I've had with Angel and then seeing him tonight, that you two have been connecting again, emotionally. And nothing good ever comes from that."
������ The blunt statement took Buffy aback. Finally she said, "I'm sorry you feel that way. I know you don't care about me, but as Angel's friend I would have thought you'd want him to be happy. Not that happy," she hastened to add, as Cordelia's eyebrow went up again. "But a - a medium kind of happiness."
������ "I do," Cordelia asserted, "but you have to admit that your past history doesn't inspire much confidence in that kind of relationship. When you and Angel were together he was either flying high and totally absorbed by his love for you, or all moody and suffering. There wasn't much in-between stuff happening."
������ Buffy couldn't argue with that, and said so. "But that was then. We've been apart for two years, Cordy, and we've both changed. I think this time we could make it work." Wryly she reflected on the irony of the situation. Here she was arguing in favor of beginning another relationship with Angel, when she herself was uncertain about it.
������ Cordelia's expression could only be described as skeptical. "So when Angel came out of your room just now, that wasn't his I'm-Hurting-But-Refusing-To-Show-It face I saw? You two didn't have an argument or something equally depressing?"
������ Buffy bit back the retort that it was none of her business. Instead she leaned against the sink and returned Cordelia's gaze. "I'm a little confused. Are you afraid that being with me will make Angel too happy and he'll turn evil again, or that it'll make him unhappy and he'll go all dark and broody again? Which is it?"
������ "Either. Both." Cordy sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "I only know that the thought of you and Angel together gives me a huge wiggins. You can't imagine how it was around here last spring; what it was like to have him walk in the door and act like . . . like a total stranger."
������ "I think I can," Buffy reminded her. "At least this time around he wasn't trying to kill you."
������ "No, he just treated us as if we hadn't worked together for over a year. . . like we hadn't been almost a family." Cordelia looked away, but not before Buffy saw the telltale sheen of tears in her eyes. "Anyway, I just wanted to ask you to be careful. We don't want to go through all that again. We can't."
������ "Neither can Angel," Buffy said with meaning. Cordelia looked at her blankly. "I know he treated you badly, Cordy, and he didn't even have the plea of losing his soul to excuse it, but did you ever think about what was happening to Angel that could make him change like that? I mean, really stop and think that maybe whatever he was experiencing was so powerful that he was helpless to ignore it, and that's why his behavior changed so radically? That maybe the reason he fired you and Wes and Gunn was because he couldn't spare the energy to argue with you; that it took all his strength to keep from being totally consumed by whatever Darla and the lawyers had cooked up for him?"
������ Buffy advanced a step toward the other woman. "Or, and here's a novel thought: maybe another reason he fired all of you was because he was trying to keep his friends out of the line of attack. Maybe he hoped that if you were out of his life the evil forces he was battling wouldn't bother with you, that they'd ignore you. Did you ever think of that?"
������ It was obvious from Cordelia's expression that she hadn't. It was also apparent that she didn't think much of the idea. Her lip curled. "That sounds real noble and all, but excuse me if I say I really doubt it. After he came back, when he apologized for everything, he didn't say one word about trying to protect us. What he did say was that he shouldn't have allowed his obsession with Darla and W&H to go as far as it did. If he'd really fired us for our own safety, don't you think he would have told us that - tried to explain?"
������ Buffy shrugged. Suddenly exhaustion swept over her like a blanket. The mirror over the vanity reflected their images, and she hoped it was just the dim lighting that made her look so pale and washed-out; but she was afraid it was only too accurate. "I don't know; would he? Remember, this is Angel we're talking about, who blames himself for all the evil Angelus did, even though it was the demon who was in control of his body, not him. He still blames himself because he wasn't aware of the loophole in his curse, even though there's no way he could have known about it. He shoulders the responsibility for just about everything that goes wrong; don't you know that by now?"
������ Cordelia's face changed slightly, as if Buffy's words had hit home. She regarded Buffy in silence for a few seconds. "Well, I can tell you're about ready to drop, so I'll say goodnight and let you rest. I'll see you in the morning, Buffy. Oh, here's a toothbrush for you. And toothpaste." She stood aside so Buffy could see the objects lying beside the sink.
������ Not a word about Angel or what Buffy had just said, but Buffy didn't expect it. That wasn't Cordelia's way if she thought she was wrong about something - or it hadn't been her way in high school. Now, who knew? Buffy was too tired right now to care, in any case. "Thank you. Good night."
������ Cordy left and Buffy finally got the hot shower she'd been craving. That over, she donned the nightgown Cordelia had brought for her, crawled between the crisp sheets, and was asleep in about ten seconds flat.
END OF PART FOUR
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